Sergeant McGillicuddy, too, had a tragic aspect.

In spite of all the Colonel could say, the Sergeant still accused himself of being the cause of Lawrence's desertion.

McGillicuddy's bronzed face, like a hickory nut, grew so haggard, his self-reproaches so piteous, that Colonel Fortescue thought it well to give him a positive order to say nothing of the circumstances that led up to Lawrence's striking him.

The Sergeant begged to be allowed to tell the chaplain about it; to this Colonel Fortescue consented, and McGillicuddy had a long conversation with the chaplain.
"The Colonel says, sir," McGillicuddy declared mournfully to the chaplain, "as it is the damned climate,--excuse me, sir,--that makes everybody queer." "I'll excuse you," replied the chaplain, who had the same opinion of the Arctic cold as Colonel Fortescue.

"I think the cold gets on men's nerves and makes them queer." However, the chaplain had the power to console, and McGillicuddy became a trifle more resigned, and even had a faint hope of Lawrence's return, caught from Mrs.McGillicuddy's report of Mrs.Lawrence's fixed belief that Lawrence would come back and give himself up.